


So close and still so far

by qwertysweetea



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo Ren is a Mess, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Soul Bond, Tenderness, built into the foundations of the canon slow-burn hellscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: The Resistance have a night to rekindle their spirits amongst the chaos. Which should be an inappropriate time for their bond to be established except Rey feels displaced, alone, and is desperate to run headfirst into the arms of temptation himself.The Reylo, force bond, slow dance fanfic that nobody asked for.[Set sometimes between The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. No spoilers for the new film, just pining bond mates]
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	So close and still so far

Something was different from the times before it, something softer she couldn’t quite place. The battle back-and-forth had always been unexplainably intimate, more so than their simple connection already made it, but for the first time since Snoke's constructed thoughts that had her so sure she could bring Ben home, she felt as though she was intruding upon something she shouldn’t be seeing.

His expression is light, lips parted and eyebrows creased as if he fought to grapple the remanence of surprise from his face. Kylo was struggling to maintain the mask once again, only just, and yet he seemed more vulnerable than any time before it.

Rey was stunning, she always had been through her brutal and unrefined power, but seeing her stood in his quarters in a grey dress, flowing to the floor from a waist clinching belt, shoulders bare and neck accentuated by the broach that pinned it all together high on her chest... that was something else. She looked regal.

Kylo swallowed thickly, his eyes trail up and down her form; from her pinned hair to her muscular exposed arms, all the way down the loose fabric. He could see the power swirling under her skin and the tension in her stance.

It should have felt demeaning, Rey had reminded herself, but it didn’t. It felt appreciative, awe-stuck. For those fractures of a second, the conflict on his face and the raging in his head all slipped in to affirmation.

“I didn’t realise the Resistance had time for parties. Is my mother reliving her youth? Or are you celebrating a victory I’ve yet to find out about?”

Rey blinked away her daze, lips pursed before pressing into a thin line, but made no reply. Around her the room buzzed with the energy of those who had been fighting for so long they forgot they were even alive. They danced in the beautiful synchronicity of a people who had belonged somewhere at one point in their lives.

It showed the beauty and resilience of the human spirit. It showed community. It showed her how much of nobody she really was, underneath it all. No family, no home, no culture beyond base survival and misguided hope that one day she would find a place. It showed her that despite it all, she still hadn’t found it.

And Kylo could feel it all.

“What does a Scavenger from Jakku know about formal parties. You probably never learnt to dance, how to hold conversation, how to exist in those spaces.” With care his voice slips into understanding “I can feel your discomfort, and your longing.”

Her eyes were glassy, his words like silk running over open wounds.

“I know how. I could teach you.”

The darkness can’t take credit for everything. Fear and intimidation will only get you so far. Ben was a Prince, underneath it all. She could see it in the way he demands attention from a room by simply being, by his posture, by his penetrating gaze.

He was clad in black, the same domineering uniform he always donned, lightsabre on his belt, black gloves decorating his hands, and he was alone. That much was obvious from his willingness to slip. Rey got the impression from their few chance encounters that he didn’t put nearly as much effort in to maintain his mask when they were alone, connected through a bond neither of them truly understood.

Rey doesn’t consider it an acceptance, more like a moment of weakness. Maybe that had been why they had connected now of all times. Ben Solo was weak, but it was a weakness she understood better than she cared to admit. A weakened moment, desperate to be understood. That's what this was, she scolded herself. Luke had berated her fearfully once for running towards temptation without consideration for her unconscious reasons…

And she did the same then, running headfirst into the arms of temptation.

She took a step forward, then two and three until she was close enough to feel the heat of his breath ghosting the top of her hair. Neck strained upwards and eyes baring into his.

With breath caught in his throat, he circled her like a predator toying with their prey, and she spun to keep their eyes locked. Around her, the music continued loud and rhythmic in her ears. People looked in curiously before returning to their own enjoyment; she can feel their curiosity like ripples against her mind, there but secondary to the fractured universe she and Kylo existed in.

He didn’t reach out to touch her, he knew better than that; his hands clasped together behind his back as he fought his own temptations. Instead, he guided without words, delicate steps and flutters of his eyes.

The familiarity of it was unsettling. Little flashes of their last fight, the choreography of it, the nature of knowing someone so instinctually all echoed in her head. The anticipation, the wonderment, the panic. It threw her forward in time while dragging her back all in the same movement. She was drunk off the atmosphere, and off of him, without the effects of alcohol pooling lethargically in her limbs.

He spun her with a wordless demand, and she allowed herself to be spun. There was a glee bubbling in her chest and it erupted onto her face in her smile. He reflected it, dampened through his stoic mask, betrayed by his shining eyes and the unfiltered adoration flowing through their bond.

It’s not being seduced by darkness if you are seductress of the light, but for a few moments, she could forget that it was exactly that: a seduction, a game. For a few more moments she allowed herself to exist in a space without the war, without the continuous battle to understand herself, her power, and her duty. Like everyone else around her, Rey allowed herself to exist in a world where she could wear a dress that felt soft against her skin and dance with handsome men to music she’s never got to enjoy growing up… Like someone who belonged to something, to somewhere, with someone.

Without her permission or thought, her lips parted, driven by the same instinct she sighed out “Ben”, so soft even he in the quiet isolation of his room could barely hear her. “Come to me. Please.”

And Kylo froze, eyes taken over with conflicted panic; his slowly slipping mask snapped back into place. All softness gone, his overbearing supremacy that screamed desperation back into his posture; as he always had been, barely held together by cruelty and rage to hide the waves of desire underneath.

He was gone, her full sense brought back to the claustrophobic room of energy she felt disconnected with.

On one of the benches, Leia sat watching, her heart writhing silently in her chest with joy and sorrow, hope and fear. The feel of her son's presence lingered in her mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I write dance scenes, it's what I do.... also my work is very dangerous and horrible right now and I'm bitter they got rid of the staff party cus I could do with some of this morale-boosting atmosphere.


End file.
